


Never say "I love you"

by Destinee Zara (LadyDestineeZara)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slow Romance, Very subtle sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 19:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6127189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDestineeZara/pseuds/Destinee%20Zara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Small moments following the history of France and England.<br/>Showing how they came from friends to enemies to lovers.<br/>Although they were lovers from the very beginning (they just didn't know it yet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never say "I love you"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello there =D
> 
> Welcome to this fanfic!  
> This is a present for asahi-talia for the FrUk Gift Exchange. I'm their Pinch Hitter Sweetheart :3
> 
> First of all: Hetalia doesn’t belong to me. If it belonged, I would be the Queen of the world. Literally.
> 
> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS
> 
> Now, to the story!

They first met when none of them was a nation yet. They were young, but already immortal and they already could feel in their heart that one day they would heir the land of their mothers.

Celtica and Britannia were old and were friends since the very beginning, so there was nothing more natural to them than to make their children meet.

Little France, that by that time was called Gaul had already met Britannia older children, Caledonia (although he liked to call himself Scot), Welsh and Eire. They were ok (a tad brute, but ok).

But it was the younger baby Albion that made Gaul mesmerized.

And baby Albion was mesmerized by the little toddler too.

So mesmerized that he did the only thing that a young baby know to show it:

He pulled Gaul’s hair.

Gaul cried, feeling betrayed by that beautiful baby already.

He was ready to scream to the baby when he saw that Albion was about to cry too.

(The baby was used to pull the adults’ hair and not get such a strong reaction).

Gaul gently (as gently as a three old could be) pulled some of the soft baby hair.

Albion made a few distressed sounds before staring confused at Gaul.

And then he gave the older a toothless smile.

The very beginning of a very different friendship and a very unusual love story.

 

* * *

 

Then came the ugly, dirty and cruel Roman Empire.

They were older than what they were when they first met, but they still were too young.

Celtica was killed right in front Gaul’s eyes.

Now he could fully feel his people being murdered, raped and enslaved by Rome.

He, himself was just another of Rome’s young slaves.

(He lost count of the nights that he wished he could just kill that monster himself).

Gaul would, from time to time, run away whenever he could.

His favourite destination was Britannia’s house.

She would always receive him with open arms and treat him like a son. She reminded Gaul of his own mother.

Albion would stick to Gaul the whole visit, always asking questions and always making up stories to cheer Gaul up.

(It was a good thing to remember whenever Rome came to take him back and to punish him).

\- Never stop fighting, Albion. – Gaul would always say – Never.

Albion would nod.

Gaul never expected the little toddler to follow that advice.

After all, who would ever defy the Rome Empire?

But Albion listened.

Even after his mother had died, even after he himself was conquered (while his brothers flee) he never gave Rome a minute of peace on his territory.

That always made Gaul fill up with pride.

 

* * *

 

 

Like all bad things, Rome passed too (killed by his own foolishness).

From his ashes, new nations were remade or born.

Gaul was not Gaul anymore.

He was the Frank Empire.

France.

And Albion was not Albion anymore.

He was England (although France liked to call him _Angleterre_ ).

They were now almost carefree children.

Almost because although France lived in a nice castle and had the love of his king (and many of his nobleman), England still didn’t had the love of his people nor the love of his brothers (who blamed him for the death of their mother).

They people had a bloody history from the beginning of their new nationhood that they were trying to clean out the best way they could.

France would visit whenever he could and they would talk and talk and talk…

They usually would fall asleep sharing dreams. England wanted to become a strong warrior, maybe a knight. France want to be an artist.

They wanted to marry.

Even if they were nations, even if they were both boys, the 12 and 9 years old wanted to marry someday.

\- One day, we will be together forever. – England said – You’ll see!

 

* * *

 

 

\- I THOUGHT THAT WAS WHAT YOU WANTED! – England screamed over the battlefield – I THOUGHT THAT YOU WANTED TO BE TOGHETER FOREVER!

They were at the end of their first big bloody war.

The first of many others.

A war that had lasted more than 100 years.

A war that had started with the King of England claiming the throne of France, a maneuver that could unify the two Kingdoms.

A maneuver that France refused.

He didn’t wanted to be submissive to England.

He wanted to be equal.

And having his throne being taken by the King of England would only bring him to his knees.

Just like Rome had done.

England had screamed that same thing on other times to him, in other battles.

France usually screamed back “NOT LIKE THIS!”.

But today was different.

Today was the very first battle they had since…

Jeanne.

The only one who had ever made France forget of England for a few moments.

The only one who seems to be fighting for his freedom.

His Jeanne.

And England had killed her and broke France’s heart.

That was why he screamed something else that time.

\- FOR JEANNE!

And that broke England’s heart too.

 

* * *

 

 

\- You love him, don’t you? – Elizabeth the First asked England one day, during a huge ball.

He looked at her with dream eyes.

\- How could I, if I’m in love with you?

\- England, please. I’m no fool.

\- And I’m no liar, my Queen. I do love you.

She sighed, knowing that he was indeed telling her part of the truth.

\- But not like you love him.

He stayed quiet for some time before answering.

\- I broke his heart. There is nothing to be done about it.

Elizabeth nodded.

\- Then, unbreak it.

It was his turn to sigh.

\- I cannot do that. Even if I wanted.

 

* * *

 

 

Their children were playing together on that new land that they were conquering.

Just like they had played when they were young under the careful watch of their mothers.

Except that, differently from their mothers, they were not friends.

Not anymore.

\- Frog. – England saluted his most dearly enemy.

\- _Rosbiff_. – France answered in a dry tone.

\- Murica! – Canada shouted gleefully and hugged his brother.

America returned the affection.

The two kids started to talk to each other, unaware of their parents’ hatred stares.

England turned his gaze to look at America.

\- Don’t run too far! – he said gently.

\- Yes, England! – the boy replied.

None of them saw the dark shine on France’s eyes and his small vengeful smirk.

 

* * *

 

 

France indeed got his revenge.

Just as England took his Jeanne, France took England’s America.

A fair trade.

A broken heart for a broken heart.

But it still hurts to see his England covered in mud, blood and tears. France didn’t know why it still hurt.

(Deep down he knew. He just didn’t want to admit out loud).

England would leave on the very next day. The English had a treaty to ship and leave, nothing else. So it was the last night of England there.

He was pissed drunk, and yet very lucid. He glared at France.

\- How could you?

France bowed his head.

\- That was for Jeanne.

\- Forget about her! She is dead!

\- Yes, and you killed her! You… - France took a deep breath – You broke my heart. You killed her and broke my heart.

England laughed humourlessly.

\- I didn’t killed her. My kingdom did. My people did. And you know very well that our powers are not absolute.

They could influence their people, but their powers were not limitless.

France crossed his arms, still refusing to listen to anyone in his grief.

\- Liar.

England turned to France with a maniacal expression on his face and a crazy gleam in his eyes.

\- Curse you, Kingdom of France, for breaking _my_ heart and taking my son from me! Curse you to feels like what it is to be torn apart by your own people! Curse you! Curse you in less than 20 years! Curse you!

And he spat on France before entering on his ship.

France would find out soon enough that all England’s curses were for real.

Soon enough he would met Madame Guillotine for the first time.  

 

* * *

 

 

\- You cannot kill him like that. – France had said dryly to Napoleon when the Emperor proposed the Continental Blockade for the first time – The old fox is clever than that.

Napoleon looked at France with disgust.

It was always a wonder to the nation how did the Emperor know about his love for the other _male_ nation. France always thought that he was discreet.

(And he was discreet. Napoleon was just that perceptive and manipulative).

\- Is it your head or your testicles speaking? – the Emperor asked with clear disgust in his voice and face.

France couldn’t answer that it was his heart (he still was having troubles admitting that to himself). Therefore, he replied:

\- It is my experience. I’ve been fighting him even before your great-great-great-grandfather was born. This blockade will not work.

Napoleon snorted.

\- We will see.

France shrugged. At least he tried to reason with the Emperor.

\- We will see indeed.

 

* * *

 

 

England defeated Napoleonic France for good in Waterloo.

So now France was England’s prisoner.

France, tied up and behind bars, smiled with sadness to his sweetest enemy.

\- So you finally did it, Rosbiff.

England stared at him with an unreadable expression.

\- Did what, Frog?

\- You have me at your fully mercy. – he kept that defeated and broken smile – So what will you do to me now, _Angleterre_?

His only answer was a long stare and a blank face.

\- Let me guess. – France feigned to think – You will use me tonight, like one of your whores. Or maybe worse than a whore. Then you will torn me apart piece by piece until my territory is not me anymore. – he laughed humourlessly – Until there is no France anymore.

But England couldn’t answer.

He wanted to kill France and end that for once for all. To try to give peace to his broken heart.

However, his heart would be destroyed if he ever did that.

He couldn’t have France and he couldn’t live without him.

How pathetic and hopeless he felt.

\- I’ll bring back the Bourbon House to the throne of France. – he declared at last – And I’ll take your Napoleon away from you for good.

He turned away and left.

It was painful to look that the pitiful state that France was.

 

* * *

 

 

The new Germany Empire saluted England with a cocky smile.

\- It is good to finally speak to a decent nation. – Germany said with a smirk – I was getting really bored with dealing with France.

A hot fury grew inside England.

How dared he…!

Germany continued.

\- How could you handle more than a millennial of his bullshit? That nation is lousy and annoying and that man is shameless and useless. He probably have more diseases on him than soldiers on his land.

Even with the fury burning inside him, England replied calmly.

\- He is an honourable enemy. Differently from some others who uses lies in petty letters to start a war.

Germany didn’t like what England was implying about him.

But that was fine: England didn’t liked what Germany was implying about France either.

 

* * *

 

 

\- That means nothing. – England said nonchalant right after signing the Entente Cordiale, even if his heart was beating fast and his hands were sweating.

France raised an eyebrow, keeping a straight face even if he could feel butterflies on his stomach and his eyes glued on England.

\- Oh? So tell me, _Angleterre_ , why were you so insistent on this agreement?

England controlled the blush that threated to show on his face and kept the unreadable expression.

\- Two reasons: One, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, even if he is a Frog. And two, I’d rather keep my personal punch bag personal than giving you to Germany in a silver plate.

He smirked.

France rolled his eyes even if on the inside he felt warm that at least England cared about him in a twisted way.

\- Whatever. – he replied – It means nothing to me either.

They both knew they were lying through their teeth.

 

* * *

 

 

France thought that he would die in a trench during the Great War.

He had stayed there for too long.

His boots were gluing to his sole, his eyes burned for the chemical gas, his nose was polluted with the decomposing bodies and shit stink smell, his mind was tired of death, he was tired and he was hungry.

He could feel that his people felt the same way.

France just wanted to die.

At some point, he just laid in a muddy part of the trench and waited.

He waited for death.

How ironic!

An immortal waiting for death.

An angel answered instead.

\- Stand the fuck up, you Frog!

It pained England to see France like that.

A shadow of himself.

Those bloody trenches were eating France alive.

\- Stand the fuck up! We have a war to win!

France blinked dumbly.

\- We?

England rolled his eyes.

\- I don’t have time for this bullshit! It took me forever to find you! Quit fucking playing!

\- We? – France asked again insistently.

England sighed annoyed to hide his fear of that small rejection.

\- You head me, Frog. We. I didn’t signed that bloody entente shit just because I have a nice signature.

France smiled and both of them melted a little.

\- We. – he said before standing up again.

 

* * *

 

 

\- You don’t look so good, _Angleterre_.

\- No shit, Sherlock.

\- I’m concerned about you, _cher_.

\- Don’t you have your own crisis to manage instead of bothering me, Frog?

\- We all have a crisis to deal with, _plus cher_. We all trusted America too much and when he broke, we all broke.

England coughed. He had been coughing a lot lately, since the Wall Street Crash.

\- What the fuck are you doing here then, Frog?

France smiled.

\- I had some silly idea to fix your lungs.

\- If that idea doesn’t include a lot of money, don’t bother.

\- Hear me out, please.

He held England’s hand and their hearts speed up.

Softly, England asked:

\- What is it?

France got closer.

\- I just thought that maybe I could kiss it better.

England snorted and smiled.

\- You were right. It is a silly idea.

They were centimetres away from each other and none of them dared to move.

\- So, are you going to test your idea or not, Frog?

France didn’t needed to be told twice.

 

* * *

 

 

Germany hit France hard on the face.

But it didn’t matter.

France had his people force behind him, the people who were resisting all the ways they could.

And he had England.

His England.

Germany grabbed him by the collar, the Nazi swastika behind him.

\- YOU WILL OBEY! – he screamed.

France laughed and spat blood at his feet.

\- No. You may have my land. You can take my name. But you will never have my heart.

Because his heart was always with England.

Always.

No matter what.  

 

* * *

 

 

America was the one who saved France from Germany, that was true.

 But it was England the one holding France’s hand all the time to his recovering.

If asked, he would say that he wanted France to live so he could kill him himself.

Only the two one them knew that the truth was something completely different that they shared in secret between them with quiet kisses.

 

* * *

 

 

\- They are arguing again. – England complained.

\- It is not different than what we were.

The English snorted.

\- America and Russia? Shut up!

\- People would say the same thing about us years ago. And look at us know.

He caressed England’s hand under the table.

England became pale.

\- Stop that! We are in public!

\- But times are changing, _mon amour_.

\- Yes, yes. But the time still isn’t right.

France stopped caressing England’s hand, but he stares intensely to those green eyes that he so much adored and started to say:

\- England, I-

England interrupted him by putting his finger on France’s lips and smiling softly.

\- Let’s not break the spell, shall we? And I know, France. I just know.

 

* * *

 

 

\- We are out of toothpaste. – England announced, sitting on the table of the apartment that they were sharing (was it on his land or on France’s land? He couldn’t recall on that moment, especially in a glorious lazy Sunday morning after a glorious night of sex).

France passed him the cup of English Breakfast tea and put his foot on England’s lap. He was reading the newspaper about America 2016 elections.

\- Hum. We should buy more later.

England drank a little of his tea before asking in wonder.

\- How the hell did we got so domestic?

France drank some more of his coffee, thinking about an answer.

\- I’m not sure myself.

They both shrugged, almost in the same way (it was a mystery who absorbed that trait from whom).

\- Does it bother you? – France asked.

England smiled.

\- Nah.

He stared intently to France and the blues eyes that still mesmerize him.

\- France, I-

France put a finger over England lips and smiled.

\- I know, _mon amour_. As you said some times, let’s not break the spell, hum?

England smiled and kissed the finger of the man and nation that he so adored.

Some things were better not said aloud anyway.

\- Ok. Maybe I’ll say it after another millennium.

France chuckled.

\- Yeah. Maybe I’ll say it too after the next millennium.

They never said it out loud.

But it didn’t matter.

They loved each other no matter what.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Making off of the story:
> 
> To asahi-talia.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you liked :D I had fun writting it (I tried to put as much small moments as I could think :D)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked it s2  
> And you can follow me on tumblr if you want :D frukheaven.tumblr.com
> 
> Bye-bye! See you next time!


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